Strangers on night trains
by annalied
Summary: A Shuuhei/Renji drabble because I love trains and bleach.


"'Scuse me, but I gotta get off soon" says the man next to the window as the train rushes past growing amounts of neighorhoods. They must be getting closer to another station, seeing that the view has changed from lush widths to brick walls and and a sky obscured by high-rises.

Shuuhei picks up his bag, about to stand and let the man out from his seat between the window and himself, when the other man suddenly puts a gentle, but somehow intrusive, hand on his left arm. "No hurry, I gotta gather my stuff first" he says with a smile and lets go of his arm. Textbooks and files slide into a leather messenger bag. Shuuhei awes at the amount of advanced literature and figures that he must be some sort of professor, or working his way there.

A monotone voice announces the next stop and the train slows down just enough to let its passengers catch a glimpse of the urban parts of the town. The daylight is close to gone and electric dots glimmer although the night is still fresh - the eager darkness is another evidence of fall, adding up to the recent scorching of summer's green hues. Shuuhei catches himself smiling at the sight and the thought of his newly purchased scarf (raven black, of course).

"Beautiful, ain't it?" Slim hands buckle the leather bag and squinted eyes smile at him, even if the mouth belonging to them doesn't smile. He resemles a fox - a silvery, cunning one, or a snake. Shuuhei can't decide which but he prefers the fox one. Less slithery.

Shuuhei watches him and asks if he's done. "With the packing, I mean," he nods at the now empty table. The train approaches the platform. Without answering him, Foxface leans closer to him and breathes "You've been looking at him for hours, and he's been watching you, too." Shuuhei blinks and reflexively shies away. He doesn't say "what" because he knows who he refers to, and it's pathetic how his occasional glances have been obvious even to a stranger.

"Sorry 'bout coming with assumptions here, but you guys oughta say hello… just a tip."

"Uh-huh" is all Shuuhei can manage and the silver-haired man fires off a smile, changes back to conversational tone and says "yea, I'm done now, so please lemme out. Thanks!"

Outside the window, he blends into the shoal of travellers and takes his leave from Shuuhei's life.

Strange guy… but surprisingly accurate in his "assumptions".

The window seat is free now - well, until Shuuhei occupies it again. It's by far the best spot.

Three pages in his book are read without attention and the town has withdrawn from the surroundings when the seat in front of him is once again occupied by the source of Shuuhei's attention.

No one could overlook him - the black lines, which Shuuhei suspects to be tattoos, and the hair red as artery blood puts him in everybody's conscience - but he happens to be fascinating in other ways, too. He caught his eyes on the platform, and draws them to him again and again.

The way he frowns when closing his eyes, and how he looks at the scenery as one would look at a loved one. How he is completely free from annoying rustles, motions and sounds, despite his largeness.

The way his voice is smoky and low-key when he asks Shuuhei if his earlier seat companion has left.

"Yes, he got off at the last stop" Shuuhei confirms and figures that he should say something as well. "Where were you?"

The redhead's surprise of his effort to keep talking is almost unnoticeable, but still there, before he shrugs it off. "Ah, I went for a walk."

"A walk?" asks Shuuhei with a frown and can't stop himself from putting a bookmark in place and shutting his book. It's due in a week, but it can wait.

A smile, not wide but genuine, plays on the lips mere metres away. "Just to the end wagon. I needed to move a little, long journeys like these make me drowsy." The huskiness when he forms the last words might be unintentional, but is painfully apparent to Shuuhei.

"I see."

As if on cue, they pick up their earlier activities again - in Shuuhei's case his book, in the tattooed man's case headphones and the outside world, blurry and suggestive. No one wanting to force the other into conversation… after all, there are still 4 more hours to go before they reach the final destination.

Tunnels fabricate darkness in their compartment and bids him goodnight.

Waking up is sudden and remorseful, as he sees the man before him rise. Fearing that he is leaving, Shuuhei feels himself slurring "where are you going?" and sees the redhead freeze, shocked about such a sudden break from the deep sleep he's probably been in for hours.

"Taking another walk" he explains carefully. "Did I wake you?"

Shuuhei shakes his head and makes the decision to follow that strange man's advice from earlier. It won't hurt anyone but maybe his pride, if he's ditched in the end (still, he has survived that one before). "Can I come with you?"

After a few seconds of hesitation, a crooked, ridiculously attractive grin soothes Shuuhei's nerves at the same time as it intoxicates them. "Sure that, _69_."

He had almost forgotten that he himself isn't exactly a Plain Jane when it comes to looks. They must seem like brothers, or friends, as they slowly make their way through rattling compartments where most of the passengers are silent or asleep. Shuuhei blushes a little when he thinks of how most people - including his tattooed guide - misunderstands the meaning of the permanent digits below his cheekbone, and feels a little desperate to declare that he isn't a pervert.

The odds aren't exactly in his favor for getting a serious job, but he is hopelessly flat, almost indefinable, without the ink on his face, the clean scars and his, without exceptions, thoroughly black clothes. (Seriously, even his boxers are black.) It's a way of making people judge him without restraints, but also a way to be Shuuhei Hisagi. If someone like the man leading his way can like Shuuhei Hisagi, he doesn't know.

They reach the end wagon too soon for his own liking. When they walked in the opposite direction of their travelling direction, it felt like walking through Time itself, conquering the rules it applies to the world. Questioning that they will ever have to leave.

The redhead shuts the door to the compartment and sits down at the stairs right by the main door, where the night air intrudes through cracks and less heating. Shuuhei leans towards a wall, but the train shakes so much, he has to sit down.

"Do you always take these walks?" he asks when the silence is too straining to endure.

"It happens, yeah."

"It's sorta nice."

"Yeah."

And then they're just two inked dudes sitting too close for comfort while looking at the landscape and trying to see what is their own contours in the window and what is lonely houses.

He could spend the whole the journey like this - well, what's left of it. A tug of grief shows up in Shuuhei as he realises that they'll have to be strangers again in an hour or so. It hurts even more when he realises that they're strangers now, too.

"I'm Renji Abarai." Renji's voice is low and a bit hoarse and sets his pulse on the line.

"I'm Shuuhei Hisagi" Shuuhei says to Renji's reflection because that one can't see his fluster as clearly.

"Why did you come with me, Shuuhei?" Dark eyes are on Shuuhei; not in the reflection, but directly and without mercy.

He chuckles a bit because he hardly knows it himself… except he does. "You know the man who left a few stops ago?"

Renji nods.

"He said we should say hello. You and me."

A gentle puff of his shoulder breaks off the vacuum that fills his mind when he's said it. Courage isn't his largest asset, but Shuuhei gathers some and puffs back.

"Hello."

"Hello."

_Gotta thank the creepy fella_, he promises himself.

"What does your tattoo mean, Shuuhei Hisagi?"

Feeling high on his emotions, Shuuhei purrs "Whatever you want it to mean" in a voice so seductive that it's sarcastic, and luckily, Renji catches his drift before he gets embarrassed about the attempted joke. They laugh heartily, probably at the absurdness of talking dirty to a stranger on a night train.

"How far do your tattoos stretch?" Shuuhei murmurs to the desirable figure next to him. It's not only a joke, because he's dying to find out ever since he saw them line his neck and parts of his chest not covered by the slack button-down.

"To wherever you want them" Renji mouths with that grin back on his lips and at that moment, Shuuhei knows they won't be strangers at all.


End file.
